


Derek the Hefty Hale

by CaptainKate (CrazyTenor42)



Series: My Teen Wolf Weight Gain Fics [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Derek Hale, Fat Derek Hale, Feeder Stiles Stilinski, Feeding, M/M, Other, So much fat shameless Derek weight gain, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 12:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyTenor42/pseuds/CaptainKate
Summary: A wide-range of prompt fills and short fics with Derek gaining weight.





	1. Too Fat to Fit

**Author's Note:**

> A variety of prompts or fics from my tumblr- @sterekchub. All with chubby!Derek...most with super!chub Derek  
> Always open for more prompts to fill if you leave it in the comments!

 “Yesss! Derek, they have a rollercoaster this year!”

“I can hear the metal creaking.”

“Don’t be such a sourwolf. It will be fun!”

Derek let Stiles grab his hand and pull him towards the coaster. In front of the entrance gate, Stiles suddenly slowed to a stop.

“You know what, you’re right.  This doesn’t seem safe. Let’s go find the fried donuts.”

“I can tell you’re lying.”

“I just thought, maybe – you know – ”

“Know what?”

“Well….those seats are sort of small.”

“Stiles, how much do you think I weigh?” Derek laughed.

“You had to buy new jeans last week.”

“I went up one size – ”

“This month,” Stiles interrupted with a grin, patting Derek’s ass. .

“ – I have not outgrown a fair ride.”

“If you can fit on that ride, I’ll make you breakfast in bed for a month.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “That’s a high wager.”

“If you can’t, you have to enter the burger-eating competition.”

“Seriously?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” Derek confidently strode into the que line of the ride. “I expect pancakes. And omelets.”           

***

Derek’s confidence started to wane when it was finally his time to board. Stiles dropped easily into the cart while Derek had to wiggle slightly to force his considerably wider rear down, the sides of the cart pressing tightly into him.

Thinking about it, maybe he had sized up more often this year than he thought. 

Stiles was watching him with a wide grin, making sure Derek noticed while he lowered the lap bar down until it locked. Derek brought down his own lap bar. There was no click of it locking into place. Instead, the bar was resting solidly on his belly.

Had his gut always sat this far into his lap?

“A little snug?”

“Shut up,” Derek muttered. “I can fit.”

“Whatever you say, dude.”

The ride attendant was making her way down the car, checking everyone’s restraints as Derek frantically tried to make himself smaller. Sucking in his gut didn’t work. Neither did trying to lift his belly up over the lap bar. He couldn’t have gotten too big for a carnival ride. There was no possible way.

He was still struggling; face heating up as the attendant came over to them. “Try standing up, crossing your legs, and sitting back down for me.”

Derek did so. The bar went down a little lower but still refused to lock into place.

“I’m sorry,” the attendant told him apologetically, “but I can’t let you ride.”

Stiles let out a triumphant noise. As soon as he and Derek had exited the ride, Stiles threw himself at the older man, pushing himself tightly against Derek’s side and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Does it make me a bad person for finding that hot?

“Probably.”

“You love me.”

“I really do.”

“Good.”  Stiles wrapped an arm around Derek’s waist, squeezing his generous love-handles.  “Now come on, Big Guy. I want to watch you eat your weight in burgers.”

***

Stiles settled himself in the closest free seat, a few rows from the front.  He smiled brightly up at Derek from where he was seated on the stage, a bright “Bob’s Burger Barn” bib tied around his neck.

_don’t look so grumpy, sourwolf. you lost the bet_ Stiles texted him. He watched Derek reach for his phone, read the text, and scowl.

  _you’re just a shameless feeder_

_Pretty sure you were fat before we started dating_

_Eating my weight in burgers isn’t going to help_

_hey, I’m an open-minded guy. doesn’t have to be burgers. Pie work too.Cakes. Pizza.Breadsticks_ …

_stop._

Stiles grinned and send a kissy face emoji before stowing his phone away when the announcer came to the stage. He spoke for a few minutes before stepping aside and allowing the Bob’s Burger Barn staff to wheel a cart of burgers out from behind stage and drop heavily laden platters in front of each contestant.

Stiles watched Derek’s eyes widen at the sight of the burgers in front of him and Stiles felt the same shock. He had been imagining some small, flattened fast food burgers. Instead, these were easily close to a pound of meat each, smothered in bacon, cheeses, and sauce.

As the whistle blew and everyone started eating, it was clear Derek’s revenge for losing the bet was apparently to see how incredibly turned on he could make his boyfriend, who was unfairly forced to just sit in his seat and not immediately rush the stage. Derek was maintaining eye contact with Stiles as he polished off his first burger and reached for his second one.

Stiles was losing his ability to even form cohesive thoughts. Derek looked like he was in pure bliss. He was eating at a decently fast pace to keep up with the others, but he had a blissed out look on his face with each bite. Stiles had stopped counting how many burgers Derek had eaten, too focused on the way Derek was shoveling down bite after bite, sauce smeared around his face, belly slowly becoming more spherical. By maybe burger number 6, or was it 7, Derek looked like he was done. He was rubbing his enormously swollen gut and breathing heavily.

Instead, he smirked at Stiles, leaned back in his chair with a belch, and undid the button on his jeans. Stiles had to hastily make sure he wasn’t drooling, especially as Derek reached out for another burger, shirt rising up a couple of inches to reveal his blubbery gut. He was definitely eating slower now, stuffed belly resting heavily on his thunderous thighs. Each bite he took was followed by a few shallow breaths, panting with the effort of forcing himself to eat more.  He looked relieved when the announcer finally called a winner and announced everyone could stop eating.

The stage was flocked with people taking pictures, announcing the second and third place winners, and Stiles was practically vibrating in his seat to go rush over to Derek.

_Fuck. I’m full_

_you look full, jesus, Der, you look huge._

_You kept watching me….made me want to eat more._

Stiles groaned. _I’ve been dying to get my hands on that belly. Looks like you could use some tummy rubs, Big Guy._

_god, yes. I don’t think I can move_

_I can think of a few ways to persuade you._

Derek replied with a winking emoji. I could be persuaded if there was also dessert involved **.**


	2. Stiles' Pillow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt:

Stiles groaned as his pillow started to be rudely  pulled out from under his head. He had been in the middle of  such a nice sleep. He was so warm and comfortable, curled up in bed on a pillow that was much more comfortable than he was used to. Not as soft as Stiles usually preferred, but he wasn’t complaining. He definitely didn’t have anything quite as comfortable in his room.

He suddenly sat up. He didn’t have anything as comfortable in his room. Because this wasn’t his room. He was in Derek’s dorm. On movie night. And he had fallen asleep.

“Sorry! What I did miss?” He asked sleepily, somewhat reluctantly opening his eyes.He was greeted with a denim-clad ass that, as round and firm as it was, was most certainly not a pillow.

“They all left. The movie was over an hour ago.”

“Dude, sorry! You should have woken me up.”

Derek looked at a corner of the bed, ears turning pink. “You seemed comfortable.”

“You were a very comfortable pillow.”

“So happy I’ve discovered my purpose in the world - Stiles Stilinski’s personal pillow.”

“Hmmm. You weren’t that comfortable. I rate it 7 out of 10. Room for improvement.”

Derek grinned. “There’s some leftover lo mein and egg rolls in the fridge…think that would help?”


	3. Over the Limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt: Wide Wednesdays

 Stiles checked the tags on a few dining room chairs before pointing one out to Derek, who settled himself on it. Like the last dozen chairs he tried, it seemed fine.

“It’s a five-hundred limit. Perfect.”

“Not if you plan on both of us sitting in it.”

“You have a comfortable lap, Sourwolf.”

“I’d rather not end up on the floor again”

“We broke one chair, one time. Besides,” he patted Derek’s generous backside, “you have padding.”

“Still not going to fit both of us, Stiles.”

“I am not two hundred pounds!”

“I know.”

“Then – oh.” Stiles straddled Derek’s lap, then leaned over his hefty gut to kiss him. “How much do you weight now, big guy?”

“348.”

“Jesus, Derek. Almost 350.”

Stiles bounced a little on Derek’s lap, grinding into his belly. The chair creaked and a split second later the leg cracked, tilting backwards and sending them both sprawling to the ground. At least Derek made excellent padding.

 


	4. Why is Daddy So Fat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a Halloween Prompt

Derek and Stiles’ daughter asks how they met ;) Derek’s waistline never stood a chance…..

“How did you and Daddy meet?”

“We met because he couldn’t resist buying my pumpkin pies.”

Their daughter wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like pumpkin.”

“Neither do I,” Derek assured her, settling himself down on the bed next to Stiles, the bed creaking and dipping considerably lower as he did so.

“So why did you buy them?”

“Well….

***

Derek walked past the bakeshop on Main Street and then immediately doubled-back. Something smelled…perfect. His wolf was going crazy trying to discover the scent. It was indescribable, a mix of sweet spices and electricity, tasting almost tangible in the air.  Derek had never encountered anything like it and he needed to find the source. It took a huge amount of restraint to not immediately charge into the bakeshop.

“What’s that smell?” Stiles looked up from behind the counter. ‘Um, shit. I burnt a tray of biscotti an hour ago. Can you still tell?”

“No,” Derek said impatiently. “It’s - more of a spice scent?”

“Oh!” Stiles help up the box in his hands. “I’ve been perfecting a secret family recipe.”

Derek took a few steps closer to the counter and the smell was more intense than it had been outside. “I’ll take two.”

***

“But it wasn’t the pie, was it, Dad?”

“Nope! I just smell naturally amazing.” He made a face. “And apparently edible.”

“Yes,” Derek said flatly. “I went in intending to eat you.”

“Maybe eat me ou - ”

Derek shoved him off the bed. Stiles cackled as he pulled himself back up, balancing himself on Derek’s wide thighs.

“Oww. Anyway. I sold this incredibly hot guy two pies and thought I would never see him again, but he kept coming back…”

***

Derek was the biggest puzzle of Stiles’ day. The guy would always come in flustered, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing there, and ordered a sizeable amount of food, with no obvious preference for anything.Anything Stiles recommended, or whatever he happened to have in his hands, Derek would eagerly buy. Stiles almost felt guilty that 9/10 times, Derek ended up buying pie, because Stiles was so  determined to tweak and perfect his mother’s pumpkin pie recipe.

***

“Is that why Daddy got so fat?”

Stiles broke out laughing. Derek gave him an unamused looked before admitting, “Yes”.

Their daughter giggled and patted Stiles arm. “Dad, why didn’t you ask him out?”

“I thought he was just an amazing boss who brought his staff food. Or maybe he had a boyfriend with a sweet tooth.”

 ***  
It had taken Stiles an embarrassingly long time to realize Derek was coming in for more than food. They started talking more, Stiles was overt with his flirting, while Derek (he realized later) was flirting in a much more reserved way, and gradually began to stop by on a late lunch break so he could sit and talk to Stiles for longer. The other clue was Derek’s widening figure which was a clear sign he was keeping all those baked goods for himself. After the first month,  there was a visible belly starting to spill over Derek’s waistband. By the third, he had started wearing his suit jacket unbuttoned, which, judging by the state of his straining shirt buttons, was refusing to close over his growing potbelly.

***

“True mates are very rare. I didn’t realize until your Uncle Peter told me what it meant.”

“And then you asked him out.”

“And then I asked him out.” Derek smiled and pulled Stiles as close to his chest as his prodigious gut would allow.  “And he was so shocked he dropped the entire plate of cookies.”

“You still ate them, sugarwolf.” 

“When did Daddy tell you he was a wolf?”

Derek turned red and tried to bury his face in Stiles neck.

“Oh no, Derek, you should tell her how I found out.”

“When she’s older,” Derek muttered.

“I surprised him and he accidentally shifted,” Stiles dramatically whispered. “It was totally awesome and adorable.”

“Was not adorable.”

“Fine,” Stiles patted Derek on the back. “Very intimidating. Your daddy was like the Big Bad Wolf.”

Their daughter laughed. “Daddy isn’t scary.”

“You’re right,” Stiles grinned, holding up his hands like claws and growling before leaning in to tickle her. “I’m really the scary one! But that’s enough stories for tonight. Time for bed.”

He and Derek tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, then headed into their own bedroom.

“You’re going to have to tell her eventually.”

“We are never telling her that story.”

“It’s not as bad as your proposal.”

“Stiles.”

“Okay, okay. Short version it is.” He slipped into bed next to Derek. “Even though the full story is much better.”

***

Derek stubbornly refused to admit he was pining. It had only been a few days since since Stiles left for his vacation and Derek had visited the bakeshop everyday since his flight.  He knew Stiles wasn’t going to be there, but he was still disappointed walking and and seeing someone else behind the counter. To compensate, he ordered more than usual. Stiles’ personality, the quirky flavors and unconventional combinations, came through in his recipes and made Derek feel slightly less lonely.

By the end of the third week, Derek’s wolf was miserable and anxious. The Sunday Stiles was due to return, Derek had been checking his phone frequently, seeing if Stiles was finally in an area with enough signal to send him a text, before his departing flight. In the meantime, he was steadily making his way through his baked good hoard. By 1 o’clock the fruit tarts were gone. Two hours later and both the apple walnut and apple pecan pies were finished. 5 o’clock, it was the tray petit fours. At nine, the dozen cupcakes that probably would be better classified as small cakes.

When Stiles did arrive back in Beacon, he figured Derek would be sleeping, so he let himself into the apartment. Derek was slumped on a kitchen chair, forcing himself to finish off the eclairs. He had hit the point of pleasantly full hours ago, pushed himself into the “uncomfortably stuffed” territory, and was now headed to the “painfully packed” stage. His pants were unbuttoned and his shirt had long been tossed to the corner of the room when he managed to spill chocolate ganache over it. Derek was so focused on the discomfort radiating from his stuffed tummy he didn’t notice Stiles walk in.

***

“Think you could still eat all that in one day?”

“You fed me twice that last weekend when you were convinced the fridge was dying.”

“It was making noises! Don’t want to waste food.”

Derek snorted. “When has that ever been a problem?”

***

Stiles, for his part, pleaded jet-lag for not noticing all the empty bakery boxes strewn around the room and not fully taking in how huge and swollen Derek’s belly was. He snuck up behind the older man and threw his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Hey, Der.”

He was greeted with a grunt of pain, a loud belch, and then a snarl as Derek lumbered up, wolfed out, blue eyes flashing, knocking the chair to the floor as he did so.

“Stiles. Shit, Stiles, I can explain…”

Stiles didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what was causing the short circuit in his brain.It could be the shock of seeing his boyfriend turn into a werewolf. It could also be the rush of his blood away from his brain at the sight of his boyfriend with fangs and his chubby body on display. Stiles desperately wanted to have his hands and mouth all over Derek’s blubbery belly and sides, while Derek sunk his teeth into Stiles neck. Hello, new kinks.

Derek was still speaking when Stiles finally mustered up focus to pay attention. It was hard to focus when every other word was punctuated by the protesting of Derek’s gut. Now that Stiles was completely focused on Derek, he did seem really uncomfortable. He was leaning on the table for support, a clawed hand gingerly holding his growling belly.

“I was going to - urp- tell you, I just - urp- “

“Is it the full moon? Do you get like - wolf cravings? You really should lie down, Big Guy.”

“It’s not, no. That’s not a thing. I just, missed you.” Derek said, trying and failing to stifle another belch. He was looking anywhere but at Stiles, eyes fixed on the door like Stiles was going to run off. He still hadn’t shift back either, still stuck in a fight or flight response look.

“Aww. Missed you too, Der. Now come on, let’s get you more comfortable.”

He guided Derek to the bedroom, forced him to sit on the bed, and struggled to wiggle Derek’s jeans off his wide bottom half. Only once Derek was reclining against Stiles, letting the young man run a hand through his hair and doing his best to very gently massage his belly, did Stiles finally ask, “So, werewolf?”

***

“And we lived happily ever after.”

“We did.”

“My sugarwolf. Filled with sugar and spice and everything nice.”

Derek rolled over and pinned Stiles to the bed, belly hanging down and pressing into Stiles’ slightly chubby one. “Only for you.”  



	5. Plight on a Plane

Derek was not having a good day. His connecting flight home was delayed so he was stuck in the airport, and worse, someone had bumped into him, run off without apologizing, and left Derek covered in oatmeal and coffee. All his suitcases had been checked already, so Derek had been forced to buy something from the scarce selection at airport shops. 2XL was the biggest size they carried. He debated it for a few minutes but he refused to spend the entire plane ride smelling of stale coffee and greasy food.

He would be shocked if no one reported him for indecent exposure. His shirt refused to cover the last three inches of his stomach and the outline of his belly button was clearly visible through the straining fabric. The sweatpants waistband, stretched to the limit and still not enough to cover him - he can feel his ass is jiggling out the back. The pants adamantly refused to be pulled any higher, already pulled taught around his rear and thighs.

So Derek was irritated and grumpy when he got in line to buy lunch and it isn’t helped any by dropping his wallet. He sighed and accepted that, at the least, he was going to showoff his backside to the entire food court, and at the way his day was going, split open his sweatpants as well. 

Someone handed him his wallet with a “here you go, big guy.” and rather than saying thanks, Derek sort of growls and assumed they’re were making fun of him.

(Stiles wasn’t stalking, really. He just happened to see Derek walk by and was completely entranced by such a wide, handsome guy whose belly and butt bounced with every step. There’s no proof he decided to get lunch at the same time and place as this guy. Definitely not stalking).

“Wow, dude, could just say you’re welcome.”

“I – sorry  Thank you…” Derek rubbed the back of his neck. His shirt slid a little bit further up his belly and Stiles had to focus really intently on the menu so he doesn’t spend his entire flight hard.

Derek bought him lunch as an apology and somehow the five hour delay for the flight was already nearing the end.

Stiles phone rang and he scrambled to pick it up. “Shit, this is my dad I forgot to tell him the flight was delayed.”

He got up and paced around on the phone and Derek heard his flight number called a few minutes later. Sure, he wanted to give Stiles his number, but for all he knew Stiles lived halfway across the world. And Stiles was probably being polite -  Derek couldn’t be his type.

Stiles is, of course, late, because he hadn’t heard the flight being announced, then had tried to look around for Derek to exchange numbers. He’s disappointed that Derek is nowhere to be found.  
  
*****  
The time he spent looking meant he had to run the length of the airport to his flight, red and out of breath, and the last one to board. Stiles was expecting to be seated near the screaming children or the guy that hasn’t bathed in months. He’s pleased to see the one seat available is next to a slightly uncomfortable looking Derek, who is pressing himself up against the window to try and minimize the fact he takes up all of his seat and most of the seat next to him with his wide lower half.

Derek looked briefly at Stiles as he sits, then stared resolutely straight again. When the cabin doors sealed and the seat belt sign came on, an attendant walked over with a seat belt extender. Derek’s ears turned red and it was possible the cutest thing Stiles had seen, and he desperately wanted to let Derek know not to be insecure about his size.

So he blurted out, “You left before I could give you my number, dude.”

Derek admits he didn’t think Stiles cared that much, and Stiles confesses to /lightly/ stalking Derek because he was the hottest thing ever.

“Seriously, Der, I would have missed my flight to stay and talk to you more.”

The smile Derek gave him melts Stiles completely. “And if I hadn’t dropped my wallet?”

“I may have been thinking about ways to accidentally bump into you.” He gently poked Derek’s side. The older man was still trying to keep himself away from Stiles’ chair and was shaking slightly with the effort. It wasn’t helping much as his belly was resting on, and threatening to go over, the side. Stiles gently pushed Derek’s belly out of the way to put the armrest up. “I was looking for any excuse to get my hands on you.”

Whatever reservations Derek had, they were clearly fading away.  He sat back in his chair, moving closer so Stiles could feel his weight pressing against his side.

“Sure you can handle it?” Derek smirked.

Oh god. Stiles wasn’t going to survive this flight.  
  
  



	6. Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Prompt: Stiles works at an ice cream shop, and Derek comes in every day to flirt with him but can't quite work up the nerve. Meanwhile, Stiles can't exactly flirt in front of his manager but he keeps sneaking Derek extra ice cream or toppings in his sundaes. Cue Derek getting chubby from their courting.

 

“Hi! Welcome to Freezer Treats.”

The guy ignored Stiles and started looking at the menu like he had never ordered ice cream before. Judging by his physique he probably hadn’t. His dress shirt was tight, not obscenely so, but enough that Stiles was sure there was a six pack of abs under there and not the slightest hint of any pudge around his waist. The man and his suit looked like they came out of Armani catalogue. He had to be a porn star or a model; otherwise he was simply wasting a perfect opportunity to flaunt his good looks.

“If you don’t know what you want, I could make suggestions?”

“A small chocolate.”

“Umm, sure big guy. You like peanut butter?”

He got a nonverbal nod in response. Oookay then. Cute, but not a talker. Stiles can work with that.

The credit card he gets handed is a company card from Wolfram Law and, if possible, Stiles swoons just a little bit more. Wolfram Law was one of the top law firms in New York, known for taking on some groundbreaking cases most attorneys would never touch.

So drop-dead gorgeous and intelligent enough to be in the most prestigious law office around. That made Stiles more willing to forgive this mystery guy for the sour look on his face. Seriously, who frowns at ice cream?

Especially the triple scoop, chocolate peanut butter sundae, with extra peanut butter cups added.

Small nothing. The guy can clearly use the extra sugar.

***

“Hey, Sourwolf!”

The guy glared at him. “Stop calling me that.”

“I don’t know what else to call you. Your credit card just says Wolfram Law and I’m not calling you that.”

“Do you always read people’s credit cards?”

Stiles shrugged. “We’re supposed to check the names and the signatures. You don’t know how many people with stolen cards come in here. Who steals a card and gets ice cream? Seriously like, why not buy a plane ticket or jewelry or something.”

“How do you know I haven’t stolen this card?”

“You look like a lawyer,” Stiles grinned. “The broody face, expensive suit…plus who would steal a card, use it at the same place for a week, and use it a block down from where they stole it? If you’re going to get arrested, go out in luxury on some private island, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

***

“Is that a joke? Stiles?”

“Seriously? You just noticed the name tag?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I write a fake name? I’m not trying to get fired.  Stiles Stilinski is my full name.”

“That’s not a real name.”

“Trust me, my real first name is awful. Stiles is way better.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll have you know the manager let me create the Stiles Surprise and it is a legendary dessert on campus.”

By legendary, he means a sugar overload of marshmallows, gummy bears, hot fudge, and a mix of four ice cream flavors that change depending on his mood. He hands it over and the lawyer raises an eyebrow – which Stiles has decided is the key to deciphering all his moods – but he takes it without complaint.

“Bye, Sourwolf!”

***

After two weeks, Stiles finally gets his name.

“You can just call me Derek, you know,” the man- Derek, apparently – said gruffly.

“What?”

“Derek Hale. That’s – I figured you knew.”

“How would I know that? You haven’t once introduced yourself.”

“Everyone around here knows the firm. I figured…” Derek shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Never mind.”

Stiles might – might- possibly have brushed his fingers against Derek’s while he handed over the waffle cone surprise – a waffle cone coated with two layers of chocolate and caramel.

“See you tomorrow, Derek.”

Stiles got a smile that shows a bit too much teeth to be considered truly friendly, but it’s a start.

***

“It’s sinful,” Stiles moaned to Scott, flopping down on the bottom bunk. “No one has a right to lick ice cream cones like that.”

“How have you not been fired?”

“I don’t talk about how he ‘floats when she walks’ or has a ‘smile like sunshine’ or is ‘the one true love of my life’ constantly.”

Scott smiled broadly. “Well she is. And at least I wasn’t giving her free food every day.”

“Hey he pays. For some of it. He needs to indulge his sweet tooth more often; I’m just helping him relax more.”

Scott rolled his eyes and coughed. “Sure. That’s why.”

***

Stiles really hated the store’s policy. There was a strict no dating or flirting with the customers rule that came into place when Scott was fired. Allison smiled at him once and the entire soft serve mix he was holding had spilled over the floor – which was still sticky no matter how many times Stiles mops it. It wasn’t fair. Scott got fired, started dating Allison, and got a great job at her father’s company; Stiles is stuck with sticky floors and student loans that mean he really needs this job, no matter how hot Derek Hale is. 

He can’t figure Derek out. He stops into the store on a regular basis, always at the same time, exchanges some snarky banter of increasingly long duration with Stiles, then leaves. It has to be Derek’s way of flirting. Why else stop in so often?  Stiles loves ice cream more than anyone, but even he can’t eat it every single day.

Not that he’s complaining. It was slowly becoming noticeable that some extra weight was creeping unto Derek the last few months. Nothing too obvious, unless you were invested in memorizing his features like Stiles was, but Derek’s cheeks were starting to fill out slightly and there was a definite tightness where his pants had started digging into the small accumulation of fat around his waist.

Stiles felt only slightly guilty for hoping Derek decided to keep stopping in, his barely rounded belly growing to be a proper gut, while the rest of his body expanded to match.

He definitely does not start giving Derek extra whipped cream on everything he orders.

***

The next time he came in, Derek again ordered a small ice cream and looked exasperated when Stiles put a large up on the counter. 

“I ordered a small. I always order a small.”

“The upgrade is on me. For my favorite customer.”

“You’re the reason my pants don’t fit.”

“You look fine to me. More than fine, actually. Like unacceptably hot.”

“These are a bigger pair,” Derek muttered.

 Stiles did not check out his rounded ass on the way out to confirm his suspicious not all the weight is going to his stomach. Nor did he get a write up from his manager, who overheard him ‘inappropriately complimenting customers.’ Whatever.

***

When Derek next came into the shop, a strikingly attractive blonde woman wearing a top far too revealing to be work appropriate, was standing behind the counter, looking extremely bored.

“Is Stiles here?”

“Obviously not.” She studied him intently, then smirked at him. “You must be Derek. Stiles mentions you a lot.”

“I don’t want to know,” Derek sighed. “I’m sure it’s nothing good.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You’re as oblivious as he is.”

Derek ordered a small milkshake. He got a large one, piled with whipped cream and sprinkles.

“Stiles’ order.”

***

Finally, finally, after assuming the day would never come, Derek actually ordered a large sundae. Not to be outdone, Stiles gave him two extra brownies, topped off with five scoops of cake batter ice cream and an ungodly amount of whipped cream.

“You should definitely order that every day.”

“I’ve gained twenty ponds since I started coming here, Stiles.” Derek teased, pinching at his love handles starting to spill over the waistband of his pants.

“So what’s twenty or thirty more?”

“Jesus, Stiles. You’re going to make me fucking fat.”

“Yep. Too late to stop now, buddy. You’ve been coming in every day for months, admit you’re totally addicted. And not that you weren’t amazingly good looking before but, chubby is a good look for you.”

***

Stiles stared for a solid twenty seconds at Derek when he walks in and hopes the arousal he feels isn’t terrible obvious. Derek’s shirt was stretched so tightly against his plump belly that Stiles could see skin between the buttons. He’s dying to just touch him, undo the buttons and squeeze and kiss and grab, now that there is so much more to Derek then when he had first come into the shop.

“Wow – hi, Derek. How was your Christmas?”

He rubbed his stomach in response, making Stiles extremely grateful to be  standing behind the counter. “I definitely overdid it a few times.”

Derek decided on a milkshake in addition to a sundae. Stiles wasn't sure his legs are going to support him for much longer.

“I don’t know, looks like you could fit more in there, big guy.”

“Guess I could handle two sundaes.”

Derek left with two less buttons on his dress shirt and a swollen stomach that Stiles wanted to bury his face in.

***

“Stiles, this is my older sister Laura.”

Stiles waved cheerfully. “Anyone tell you that you have the same terrifying brooding face that Derek does?”

Laura laughed. “I like this one, Derek.”

She made to order something and Derek shook his head. “Don’t bother. Stiles has yet to listen to what someone actually orders.”

“Guilty as charged.” He presented them both with his salted caramel toffee sundae.

Laura only ate half hers and pushed the other half to Derek.

“Now I know why you’re getting chubby, Der,” she teased, putting a hand on Derek’s stomach. “I’d be huge if I ate like this every day.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Stiles smiled. “Derek is keeping us in business.

“You know, Stiles, we have an opening in our research division, if you wanted. Free donuts every morning in the breakroom…the chocolate ones have always been Derek’s favorites.”

Stiles waited until his manager was looking away before surging forward and kissing Derek. (Stiles also might have taken one of the huge ice cream vats with him later that day. But hey, he was quitting anyway. And chocolate is Derek’s favorite flavor).

***


	7. Will Run for Donuts

Derek goes out running every morning. Stiles starts bringing him coffee and donuts as an excuse to come watch the beautiful display that is chubby Derek. The heavy wobble of his belly and the way his thighs and butt bounce with every step. Derek is shameless - he wears tight exercise shirts that show off the bottom few inches of his hefty gut and shorts that put his thunder thighs on clear display. His glorious fat ass is another thing. It’s barely contained, hanging out of the top of his shorts.

Stiles wants to grab handfuls of it.

It doesn’t help that after all the donuts, Derek’s shorts get even tighter. Stiles drops both coffees and the box of donuts when Derek bends down.

And sure, it’s a little disappointing when Derek finally does get a larger size.

But eventually those get tight too.


	8. Pounds of Proposing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Tummy Tuesday

Derek has an unconventional way to propose to Stiles. Neither he or Stiles are fans of having big, public proposals, but he does want to do something special. So Derek decides to have the ring baked into a cake. More specifically, his favorite cake, which almost guarantees Stiles will feed it to him, and therefore find the ring.

Stiles will love it. Because Stiles is weird like that.

The restaurant reserves a private booth in the back for them and the night is going well until the cake is served. The chef apparently they missed the memo about “a small, two person size cake”, because the waitress winks at Derek before serving them with a decadently frosted cake large enough to feed at least five people.

Derek eyes the cake with some apprehension, placing his palm against his gut. He’s already fairly full, not uncomfortably so, but nearing that point. He had eaten most of their fried ravioli appetizer, the remainder of Stiles’ spaghetti carbonara in addition to his own hearty lobster macaroni dish, and Stiles had kept cutting him pieces of garlic bread.

Hopefully the ring was somewhere in the middle.  

“Oh, sure, you order your favorite.”

“You can order something else,” Derek pats the top of stomach, visibly rounder than when they had sat down, “Or you could feed it to me.”

“Deal.” Stiles moves to the other side of the booth and starts bringing forkfuls to Derek’s mouth. The cake is amazing, rich and chocolaty with a cream cheese icing. Derek tries to focus on the taste, not on how much of the cake is still left on the table. He arches his back, pushing the booth a little further away from him to give his gut more room. It’s spilling into his lap, resting heavily on his thighs.

“Look at all of this.” Stiles takes a handful of Derek’s belly and shakes it, watching it wobble uncontrollably. “Almost three-hundred pounds, Derek.”

Derek burps lightly in response and takes a quick sip of water before accepting the next forkful of cake. A few more bites and he has to reach under the table and lift up his stomach to undo the button on his pants. Stiles feeds him another bite, one hand massaging Derek’s lower belly where his pants had left angry red marks.

A little less than halfway through, Derek stops to let his werewolf healing at least catch up slightly.

“Give me *urp* a few minutes,” Derek groans.

“You don’t need to finish it.”

“I want to.” Derek presses his fingertips into his stomach, stifling as few burps as he starts rubbing and prodding to try and make more room. There are gaps in his button-down shirt as it stretches tighter across his middle. He takes a few deep breaths and hears the soft ping as a button flies off from the middle of his shirt.

“Fuck,” Stiles moans softly. “You look ready to pop and you’re still eating. So good to me, Der. You’re going to get so big.”

“Already pretty big,” Derek says, nodding slightly to Stiles to resume feeding him again. “Might be *urp* three-hundred after this.”

The ring, thankfully, ends up a little past halfway through the cake, Stiles finds it and pulls out, practically shrieks “YES” then throws himself at Derek in a hug, careful not to put too much pressure on his throbbing stomach.

“I’d get on one knee but I don’t think I can move.” He shifts slightly in his seat and winces. Definitely not moving anytime soon. Even breathing is laborious when he’s overfilled like this.

“You forced yourself to eat an entire cake to make sure I found the ring?”

“It was supposed to be a smaller cake.”

Stiles laughs and kisses him. “The things you do for love.”

They sit there for over an hour, Stiles’ hands splayed across his fiance’s tummy, until Derek is up to moving again.

“I thought you were supposed to get fat after you get married.”

“I didn’t see you complaining while you feed me an entire cake.”

“Wait until the wedding. I want a three-tiered cake, just for you .”


	9. Stuck

Derek makes a small miscalculation in two things: 1) thinking the size of Stiles’ apartment window is as wide as the one in his old bedroom and b) seriously underestimating how much thicker he’s gotten in the past year.

He’s halfway into the window when he suddenly realizes he can’t move himself any further. His butt stubbornly refuses to go any further into the room and his not-so small bulge of a belly and fleshy hips seem to have wedged him too tightly to try and make a hasty retreat out. Ordering that heaping third helping of pad Thai today at lunch was definitely a mistake. He grips the window ledge tighter to try and pull himself through, wincing as the window frame digs into his stomach. 

The wood and plastic shatter in his grip.

The noise wakes up Stiles, who flails in the dark for a minute (Derek can hear him tripping over something on the floor on his way to turn on the lights).  When he does turn on the lights and finds the source of the noise, he immediately grabs his phone and takes a few pictures, almost bent double with laughter.

“You’re like Winnie the Pooh! All you need is a pot of honey.”

“Yes, more food is going to help this situation.”

He has his claws out, bracing his arms best he can against the side of the walls, ready to break through them.

“Woah, no! You can’t do that! How am I going to explain to my landlord that there is a giant hole in my wall? I make barely over minimum wage, dude. I have student loans! I can’t afford to replace a wall.”

Derek growls at him. “Stiles. Do you have a better plan?”

“Let Mrs. Harrison and all the other neighbors ogle your ass hanging out my window?”

“No.”

“It’s a very nice ass.”

 Stiles never tires of having so much of Derek to grab now. So naturally he decides the best course of action is to start  taking handfuls of Derek’s pudge and squeezing it over the threshold of the window, coaxing him into the room little by little. Derek feels himself getting hard - which is not going to help his situation of being stuck - and has to will himself to think about anything other than Stiles’ hands massaging his backside.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Derek grumbles.

“Getting to feel up my unbelievably sexy boyfriend who’s gotten so chubby his giant booty is stuck in my window? Super hot.” 

Derek is finally at a point where he can wiggle free and ungracefully falls forward onto Stiles who happily wraps his arms around him.

 “I’m using the door from now on.”

 


End file.
